Mathematical!

Sculptor Robert Efroymson is a nerd.

This isn't meant as a bad thing—more like a badge of honor. A graduate of computer science programs from both Washington University in St. Louis,
Missouri, and the University of New Mexico, Efroymson is basically a computer genius, but his early forays into the world of programming came out of a lust for making music.

"I've dabbled [in music] a little bit, but for whatever reason, it never became a big thing," Efroymson says. "So I went off and got a job doing embedded operating systems."

OK, bro. Whatever that means.

These days, though Efroymson still makes music (a Moog synthesizer was set up to record when we met in his office downtown), he uses his knowledge and nerdiness for visual artistic pursuits, and an upcoming exhibit of his sculptures at 7 Arts Gallery shows just how far he's been willing to go over the last two years to create something he loves.

Efroymson is what we might call a virtual sculptor. His final product, strangely elegant yet not quite recognizable tabletop pieces, are physical, you can hold them—they're 3D printed, initially—but much of the "sculpting" takes place in software like the coding language Python and the 3D rendering app OpenSCAD, a free program for creating CAD (computer-aided design) objects. Since taking on sculpting, Efroymson has developed and written his own algorithms and subroutines for these programs, and he now has it down to a science.

Here's how the overall work goes in very simple terms:

-Efroymson writes algorithms that create and connect a series of geometric shapes, some recognizable instantly, others not so much.

-He then alters or, as he says, "twists" those shapes in the coding language and rendering software. The twist is visible, as if he took a cooling bit of metal and physically twisted it.

-A hollow or shell version is 3D printed, which can take upwards of two days, he says. This step is particularly crucial as 3D printers, which are still in the early stages (at least commercially) can be finicky, and sometimes tens of hours of work can be lost.

-Once complete, that hollow travels to Berthoud, Colorado's Mad Castings, a foundry that Efroymson says works with dozens of Santa Fe artists. Since Efroymson's works are made from PLA plastics in the early stages, the process from that point is similar to lost-wax casting, a system that dates back thousands of years. During the casting, the plastic melts away as wax would—Efroymson says it's a clean-burning plastic—and what's left is a more permanent version of his original design in bronze.

-After that, Southside Santa Fe studio Rusty Mesa, which specializes in
sculpture, adds the finishing touches and patina. In the end, those onetime lines of code become a tangible, mathematical and oddly captivating piece of art.

"So, the math is there," Efryomson explains. "You write these mathematical bits and equations, but it's not pure math; it's not 'one and one is two,' and then you get this sculpture. It's taking different shapes of sculpture and saying, 'This isn't twisted enough, this lacks balance. There's a feedback process to the work."

Say it doesn't work how he wants, for example. Efroymson says can mean a trip back to the drawing board—in this case, the coding itself. It's not uncommon for him to rewrite bits of code to get the desired results. It's almost like reworking DNA, though we're now erring into playing-God territory, and this ain't that.

Anyway…

The work, while computer-born, is not heartless or lacking in emotion. During the printing, an easily-visible representation of the layers of plastic or small flaws can and do occur. These imperfections find their way to the final bronze piece, and though the rules of math remain steadfast and there is undoubtedly a high level of precision involved, Efroymson says he keeps the flaws because he likes them. Further, it assures that no two pieces are ever alike.

"A lot of art is sort of political, you want to say something, and mine is really not that. It's deliberately non-representational for, you could almost say, religious reasons," Efroymson tells SFR. "The intention is to sort of put something out there that looks familiar, but not familiar at the same time. I don't want to beat the viewer over the head, I want them to process it. Music is kind of like that; 'I'm feeling nostalgic but I don't know why.' You'll hear it, you'll see it, and it will give you a feeling without being completely in-your-face."

Robert Efroymson: Math to Metal: Geometry to Life
5 pm Friday Aug. 2. Through Aug. 31. Free.
7 Arts Gallery
125 Lincoln Ave., 437-1107